Stop the Clock
by Lionfire42
Summary: Jack and his friends are still recovering from their encounter with MECH. But as a powerful figure bent on world domination emerges, Jack himself will be forced to fight against it, and in the process will discover a terrible secret about himself.
1. Chapter 1

It rarely rained in Jasper, yet Mother Nature seemed to choose today of all days to deposit buckets of water on the unsuspecting town.

Arcee shuttered her optics as the pounding rain mercilessly lashed her garage roof. She felt a brief pang of guilt as she scanned the house and realized one of her two charges was gone. June must have gone out the front door exceedingly early; she'd left her car outside the night before. It never ceased to surprise the Autobot how quietly the woman could disappear. She must have had years of practice doing so as to not wake her son. If she had been a Cybertronian in the war and had been more combat-inclined, Arcee had no doubt she would have made an excellent scout.

Speaking of her son…

Arcee felt her spark warm as she recalled the date. It was her partner's 'birthday' as the human called it, and from what she'd heard, it was a pretty big deal. He was making seventeen today, and while he'd have been no more than a sparkling on Cybertron, on earth he was considered to almost be an adult.

Adult. Her spark jumped slightly at that. From what she could see, adulthood was a monotonous activity here. Jack had told her about the general expectation that was to be of his life. He was to get a good education, go to college, get a good job, get married, have kids, raise said kids, send _them_ off to college, retire, and ultimately…die.

She didn't like this sort of thinking. More than once she had found herself looking at him and realizing that he was growing still. Growing taller, growing older. And sometimes, as she watched her comrades laugh and enjoy themselves around their friends, she wanted nothing more than to stop time itself. After all, who would Bulkhead talk to about his interests and exploits in the Wreckers? And who would Bumblebee play with and protect like the siblings he once had? Worse yet, what would happen when she lost yet another partner, not to the 'Cons, but time itself?

She shook herself. Now was not the time to dwell on such things. Now was the time to appreciate the fact that her friend had lived long enough to make it to seventeen after entering their war.

The door opened suddenly, and the subject of her thoughts came through the door. Jack shivered as the warm air of the house was swept away by the cold chill of the garage. "It's freezing out there. Are you sure you don't want a heater or something put in here?"

"I already told you no," Arcee responded, playfully rolling her optics. "One, you barely make enough as it is at your job, and you really don't spend enough on yourself. Two, I'm pretty sure the bills shouldn't put any more strain on June or you." Jack had recently reinstated to his job after losing it three months ago. The manger apologized after discovering that Jack had been called away from his work in a case involving national security. At least, that was the explanation Fowler had given him. The truth would have been far more complex.

"Jack, go put on a shirt. You'll catch a cold," Arcee scolded, realizing that her charge's chest was bare.

Jack grunted. "Cotton makes my chest itch," he said, sitting crossed legged on the cold cement floor.

Arcee cast a discreet glance at Jack's torso. The bumpy, shiny and raw burn in the shape of an M was clear even in the dim light of the garage. Her spark ached with guilt; no matter how many times Jack insisted his capture and torture was not her fault, she would never cease to look back and wonder what she could have done differently to prevent his pain. At least he seemed to be getting better. His bruises had faded away, and his arm had mended. His ribs were better too, and he would soon be able to rejoin the gym class at school. Probably best of all, the nightmares seemed to be stopping. For months now Jack hadn't been able to sleep properly due to the flashes of memories that integrated themselves into his time of rest. Memories that were better left forgotten. She would never forget the panic that gripped her when she'd been shocked awake to the sound of Jack's agonized howls. The memory of the noise still haunted her on her worst days.

She shook herself slightly. This was a day of joy, raining or not. She wouldn't let her negative thoughts affect Jack's; the boy had an uncanny ability to pick-up on her emotions. As it was, she had been quietly observed during what she had assumed to be her hidden musings.

"What is it?" he asked quietly. His voice was maturing nicely, and the soft but strong tenor was soothing.

Arcee smiled affectionately at him. "Just thinking about the fact you're seventeen now. Almost a man."

Jack chuckled. "We've come a long way in such short time, haven't we?"

"Yeah," his partner responded wistfully. They stood in companionable silence for a little while longer before the sound of Jack's alarm began to echo through the house. Jack sighed and shrugged himself off the floor. "I'd better go get ready for school."

"Are you sure you can't skip just one day?" Arcee asked in a wheedling tone.

Jack chuckled. "No can do Arcee. I have a history test today, and a paper due, and-"

Arcee laughed. It felt so good to. "Alright, alright. Go get ready. And put on something warm, okay? With luck the rain will stop by this evening."

"Agreed." He started for the door.

"Jack?'

Jack turned back to her, his blue eyes strong, comforting and solemn.

Arcee wanted to tell so much. She wanted to tell him not to ever go away. She wanted to hold him close and protect him from everything that could possibly take him away from her. But centuries of military training would not allow her.

So she settled for, "Happy Birthday, Jack."

He smiled at her with that smile that said so much before turning and going back in the house.

* * *

Kessler stood before to the enormous glass windows of his main headquarters. Of all the wonderful places that he's established his empire, the Windy City of Chicago was his favorite. People here were so hardy, yet so kind. Must be due to the bitter cold winters here.

Kessler's musings were cut short by the doors to his office opening. "Yes, Harrison?"

"It's me, dad."

This voice actually made Kessler turn around. A tall, but skinny teenager stood in the doorway, his olive green eyes darting around the room briefly before settling on the man whom he called father. He had broad shoulders and blond hair. His shirt was smooth and clean, with crisp lines that screamed of having been ironed by an expert. His jeans were obviously new and looked as if they had just come from the designer's personal closet. He seemed like the poster boy for the rich.

It disgusted Kessler.

"What is it?" he snapped, his previous good mood slipping away like an eel.

"I got that info on the kid you're looking into." The teen stepped fully into the room, having taken his father's crisp response as an invitation. "Jacob whatshisname."

"His name is _Jackson_, Gregory," Kessler snapped. "Honestly, can't you remember anything beyond the realm of your high school social status?"

"It's George," the boy snapped back. He brandished a tan folder. "And I remembered to get the research together, didn't i?"

"Yes, you did." Kessler flitted to George's side, faster than the eye could follow. He snatched the folder away and began to slowly flip through it. "No doubt after Harrison reminded you about it. I should have given _him_ this job; he would have compiled all this in half the time you did."

George bristled. "Well you didn't, did you? I did. Not that it means anything to you."

"You're right," Kessler said casually, slowly walking out of the room while reading the folder. "It doesn't. Now get on to school. It's embarrassing enough when you get caught in women's restrooms; I shouldn't have to get someone to hold your hand to make sure you go inside the building.

George started to say something, but stopped at Kessler's warning look. He swallowed back his angry response. He was already pushing his luck as it was. Instead he pushed down his pride and nodded to Kessler's retreating back. "Have a good day, sir."

Kessler did not respond, even though he'd stopped just beyond the threshold. Instead, he waited until George had uttered his words, and then fully turned away, continuing his journey to his car.

**I'm back! That was...kind of fast.**

**Now that Tick Tock is done, this story is pounding my brain. I hope it meets up to your standards.**

**Notes:**

**Arcee's musings: These thoughts are actually my own. I can't help but think that the children's mortality is quietly residing at the back of all the bot's processors, especially that of the three who are with the kids on a daily basis.**

**Time: In case you missed it, this story takes place three months after Tick Tock.**

**Pairings: I will tell my readers straight off the bat that I cannot write romance if my life depended on it. Public displays of affection are awkward to me even on a screen, and actually imagining it is a feat I am not capable of. I'm not sure where exactly I'll be going with pairings, or if there are even any in this story. However, I am more likely to push Jack and Arcee together. Understand that this is a very big **_**maybe**_**. And even if there is, you might have to squint to see any romance there. Like with a microscope. A very powerful microscope.**

**Almost forgot...Please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

"Excellent, as usual, Mr. Darby." Jack's math teacher slapped a sheet of paper on the teen's desk. It was proudly emblazoned with an enormous A.

Jack smiled slightly in response, and then began to go over the few problems he'd gotten wrong. He quickly identified and corrected his mistakes. By the time he was done, his math teacher had only just finished passing out the papers to his row, which was the first.

"Jack," someone whispered. He turned to find himself face to face with Sierra. He blinked. When had she come into his class?

Noting his confusion, she smiled. "Um, hi. You, uh, gave me a ride on your motorcycle before, remember?"

Jack nodded slowly. "Yeah…I just-I really don't remember you being in my trig class."

Sierra smiled even wider. "I just got transferred in here from my advanced geo class."

"Ah," Jack finally smiled. "Well, welcome to trig. If you need any help just ask."

And then he returned his attention to the board where the teacher, pleased with the class results on the test, was giving them the rest of the hour to do homework. Jack began immediately, but before he was even finished with the first problem, he was once again interrupted by Sierra.

"Jack?"

Jack looked up in silent question.

"Today's your birthday, right?"

Jack nodded slowly, wondering where Sierra was going with this.

The next part came out in a rush. "Iwaswonderingif youwanttohangout."

Jack said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm sorry, what?"

Sierra went an amusing scarlet. "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to hang with me and some friends today. We were going to the movies and since it's your birthday…"

Jack shook his head. "Sorry. I'm spending time with my friends and mom today. But thanks."

Sierra nodded, and an awkward silence fell over them. When the final bell rang, Sierra all but bolted out of the door. Jack stared after her for a moment before shrugging and beginning to gather his stuff. Time around women had taught him that it was important to let them work out some of their issues alone, unless intervention was necessary.

* * *

The heavy rain had slowed down to a steady patter. Still not great, but preferable to the lashing that had affected the citizens who were majorly used to dressing for summer weather. Arcee swore she'd seen some kids run in the school with shorts on.

Now she sat, waiting for her rider to come out of what Miko called, "The Land of Distinguishable Charlie Brown Adults." Yet another example of the girl's lack of depth. Then again, Arcee hadn't exactly been a fan of school herself. History had been an excellent time of the day for a joor of recharge, if she recalled.

The bell signaling the end of school sounded, and a stream of kids began to rush out of the double doors a minute later. Miko and Raf disengaged themselves from the seemingly ceaseless crowd and hurried over to their guardians on both sides of Arcee. "Hey Bulk! Is everything ready?"

Had he not been in alt-mode, Bulkhead would have smiled. "Yes, Miko," he chuckled. "And it's Friday, so you know what means!"

"Party!" Miko cheered.

"Better! Double party!"

Miko whooped, and they roared off, followed seconds later by Bumblebee and Raf. Arcee hadn't heard their conversation, having been immersed in quiet amusement at Wreaker's child-like antics. Still chuckling, she returned her attention to the school doors as the girl known as Sierra burst away from the crowd. Immediately, her nameless friend was at her side.

"Well?" the girl demanded. "Did you ask him?"

Sierra pulled an umbrella from her backpack as she sighed. "Yes."

"And?"

"He said he's hanging out with his friends today. Turns out it _is_ his birthday."

"Aw!" the friend pouted. "He totally would have been cooler to hang out with than Vince."

"Yeah," Sierra sighed.

"Ooh Here he comes!"

Jack Darby came out of the school, and seemingly missing the sight of the two girls huddled not far from his bike, jogged over to Arcee.

"Hey," he said, smiling brightly. The wetness of the air seemed to lessen slightly.

"Hey," she responded. The greeting was standard, but the genuine warmth was more than usual.

As her rider mounted, Arcee couldn't help but take another peek at the Sierra and her friend. Both were staring longingly at Jack. Her engine growled slightly.

"Something up?" Jack asked as he fastened his Bluetooth on his ear and pulled on his helmet.

With a last glance at the girls, Arcee responded, "Not at all."

"Good." He leaned in as she started her engine. "Let's not keep the other's waiting. Miko's probably bouncing off the walls by now."

"Wouldn't want that to happen," Arcee said dryly. _Much_.

* * *

Harrison never really questioned his master's orders. He was the servant, after all, and it wasn't his place. Besides, he had served long enough to concede that his master was far more intelligent than he was.

As he walked along the lakeside, he allowed his mind to briefly wander own the path of memories.

He'd been only an grunt in a shabby strip club before Kessler had found him. He had always been big as a kid. By the time he was in eighth grade, he had already been more than six feet tall. And the growth hadn't stopped, not until his junior year.

His hands clenched involuntarily. Freak, they called him. Monster. Idiot. Frankenstein.

He'd finally showed them. They'd pushed him too far, and he had snapped.

He hadn't meant for it to go so far. If only the arrogant jock's little brother hadn't jumped at him. If only the kid hadn't startled him, had only known about the abilities that even he hadn't known he had…

It hadn't been on purpose. The prosecution and the defense agreed on that. It was manslaughter. Whether it was voluntary or not had been the argument.

He didn't remember what they decided. All he remembered was the sentence.

Five years. Five years of his life taken away. In a maximum state prison.

He served his time in that…place. And when he was free…he still wasn't. His crime hung onto him like a second skin. Very few people wanted to hire a guy that was over seven feet tall. No one hired a guy over seven feet who'd kill a little kid half his size, accident or no.

All he had going for him was his sheer muscle, and in the end it was only put to use protecting the girls of a money-hungry man's facility for sexist men or unfaithful husbands who saw the females as little more than items to waste their time and ill-gotten money on.

And then Kessler had come and rescued him.

He'd come not looking for a way to feel better about his pitiful life. Rather, he'd come looking for Harrison himself.

Kessler told all about the history of their species, and their inherited abilities. By the end, Harrison was willing to follow him anywhere, but Kessler was generous. He allowed Harrison to conduct whatever revenge he deemed necessary before his identity was erased and replaced with another for his new life.

And he had his revenge. Oh yes, he definitely had his revenge. Kessler was most creative in the acts, and Harrison had a front row eat to the deaths of all who wronged him. It was most satisfying to give the girls at his job thousands of dollars, then watch as he place burned down with the owner still tied to one of the beds that he'd made the girls lay upon.

His memories were interrupted by the sight of a young man tying his shoes by the edge of the path. As he stood up, his water bottle fell over and would have rolled into the lake if not for Harrison's shoe. He handed the bottle back, and the two struck up a conversation. The an didn't seem to think it odd that Harrison, who had been walking the opposite way, was now walking back the way he'd come. They kept talking and walking all the way to a slightly secluded spot by the lake where, coincidentally, Harrison's car was parked.

It was raining now, and very few people were about. Thus no one saw the giant man clobber the smaller man on the head, and stuff his body in a car trunk.

Sliding into the driver's seat, Harrison flicked a bit of rain off his glasses, and started the engine, successfully initiating the scrambler that distorted and erased his tracks from all security cameras within a three block radius. A monitor automatically checked the status of the unfortunate man in his trunk. It wasn't the first time someone had occupied that space. But this time, the occupant would serve a higher purpose than his wasteful life would have provided otherwise.

As he turned on the heater, he released his position. He was a servant of Kessler, the man who would bring change to earth and eradicate the disease that humanity had become. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

**Review please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**3:03 PM**

"Happy Birthday, Jack!" Agent William Fowler seized Jack in a bear-hug and lifted him straight off his feet.

"Err, thanks Bill," Jack managed. "Shouldn't you still be on bed rest?"

Fowler set Jack down, chuckling. "Not much gets an Army Ranger down, not even retirement." His eyes darted to behind Jack, and he smiled even wider. "June!"

"Bill! How are you?" June came forth, and was too drawn into a hug.

"Great. The doctors were amazed with the hand." He displayed his new right hand to the growing crowd.

"Perfectly balanced, Cybertronian metal. Neural sensors make it respond just like a real hand." He flexed his fingers for emphasis.

"Cybertronian metal?" Raf questioned, looking up at Ratchet.

Ratchet drew himself up proudly. "I took the liberty of combining the works of both species. The outer "skin" is made of reinforced Vehicon shoulder plating while on the inside, the "bones" are made of a mix of titanium and steel. The "nerves" were-"

"BOOORRIINGGG!" interrupted Miko. She turned to Fowler. "Can you punch through walls? Can you shoot cool lasers?"

"Nooo…but I can do this." With a flourish, Fowler flipped his hand so that the wrist showed and flicked it slightly. A steel rectangle erupted from the palm. Before Miko could say anything else, the rectangle suddenly had a point. The point was pushed outward as the blade expanded like a fan forward, the smaller and smaller parts expanding and settling on top each other nearly seamlessly. The process took no more than a few seconds, and in the end there was a miniature sword protruding from Fowler's palm to a little less than a foot beyond his fingertips.

Everyone stared in awestruck silence before turning to look at Ratchet. He looked a little embarrassed. "I thought he would need little protection," he muttered turning back to his lab.

"A little? A LITTLE?" Miko cried. "That's over the top, super, major, AWESOME protection! Can I have one?"

"NO," was the chorused replay.

Fowler retracted his blade. "Speaking of weapons…" he turned slightly and picked up a large rectangular box. "Here's your present," he said proudly handing it Jack.

Jack took it and carefully unwrapped it. Normally he would wait, but he was extremely curious as to what the agent could have gotten him. Inside were several metal parts and a large carton of bullets.

"Sniper rifle," he breathed, recognizing the item from the many internet scrolls he and Arcee had gone through. The girl was seriously interested in weapons. She seemed especially interested when she was ticked off about something, which a little frightening.

"And license." Fowler handed him an envelope.

June twitched slightly. "You got him a sniper rifle?" Her voice rose to an unusual octave.

Fowler was suddenly nervous. "Well I wanted to get a sword or a bow and arrow, but they're not exactly available in the army arsenal."

It seemed as if June would start yelling, or maybe strangling at any time. As it was, Fowler was saved by Arcee. "A Barret," she murmured, leaning close. She looked at Fowler, excitement in her optics. "M98B?"

Fowler nodded proudly. "You got it."

Arcee looked ready to forsake the party any minute. "We've got to try this out."

"Uh, not without training, you're not!" interrupted June. She shook her head. "I shouldn't even let you have this."

Arcee picked up the kit lovingly. "That's not a 'no' though, is it? Don't worry. I was a sniper in the war before I became a scout. I'll teach him."

"You're not giving me the chance to say no, are you?"

"Nope."

June groaned. "This better not end up like the fireworks fiasco."

Arcee looked insulted. "That cat had it coming to him. He peed on my kickstand!"

Bulkhead let out an undignified snort and Bumblebee chrortled.

"Shut up," the blue bot grumbled.

Miko had already grown bored upon seeing neither Jack or his prtner were going to elaborate on the incident. "Come on already! Let's open the rest! Let's put on ome muic! Let's eat cake! Let's-"

"Whoa, there." June put a restraining hand on the hyper active girl's shoulder. "One at a time."

"Let's open the other presents." Jack smiled at Miko and she beamed back. "I really want to see what I got. Not really used to having many gifts." Both teens missed Arcee's narrowed optic ridges and her tightened lips.

"Come on, Jack!" Raf seized the teen's hand. "Come see what I got you!"

* * *

**3:11 PM**

Eli Starnam could do nothing but curse humanity itself. His anger was mostly aimed at his friends, who had insisted that running was good to do, and then abandoned him just because of a bit of bad weather. Runners kept running no matter what. When the going got tough, the runners get running. When he next saw Mike, his friend was going to get a foot up his ass.

Assuming this was a regular kidnapping, and he would get to see his friend again.

He should have never started up a conversation with that big guy. But the guy saved him from spending another five bucks on a new bottle, and Eli was a natural talker. He groaned as he recalled his mothers words: _That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble, boy!_

Looks like she was right about that at least, though he refused to believe that snoring with his mouth open would attract spiders…

He released a shaky laugh. Great. Now he was starting to lose it. He could almost feel his thoughts scattering. But the scattering was the only thing keeping the panic at bay.

Heavy footsteps made look up…ish. He had woken up blindfolded and alone. However, judging by the cold, concrete floor, and heavy dust in the air, he deduced that he was somewhere old, and possibly abandoned. Now the rising dust stirred by his kidnapper's large feet confirmed it.

Enormous hands seized hi head roughly and ripped the blindfold off. The giant he'd met earlier stared at him emotionlessly, then seized him by his shirt and roughly turned him over. When he felt his bonds fall away, Eli acted. He lashed out with his foot, intending to smash his foot into the man's face, scramble to his feet, and then do what he did best: run.

What actually happened was this: the gorilla-like human seized his foot, stopping it at least an inch away from his face. He then stood up in a fluid movement, wrapped both hand's around his prisoner's ankle, and began to spin.

Eli felt hi ankle dislocate and he cried out in pain. The world stretched and blurred, and his eyes watered as dust attacked them. Then the pressure was gone and there was a moment of relief before Eli realized that he was still airborne and the sensation that _something_ was in his path grew. Something big, and solid, like a wall. Exactly like a wall…

_Aw, sh-_

WHAM!

Winded and in pain, Eli slid down the wall and lay in a heap, dazed. His frantic eyes, blurred by tears, sought out his attacker. The suited gorilla looked at him calmly. "Stay."

Eli stayed.

* * *

**3:23 PM**

Miko's guitar screamed like it had a life of its own. The rest of the group let out a collective groan as the screeching reached an almost unbearable level. "Come on, Jack!" she cried. "Let's rock and roll!"

Jack eyed his new drum set, courtesy of Miko and Bulkhead. Seeing the rest of the group's frantic gestures, he smiled to appease at his hyper friend. "Err, maybe later, Miko. I'm afraid my skills may be a little rusty."

Miko pouted but complied. As she was putting her guitar away, Raf looked at Jack shyly. "Do you want to play your new game with me and Bumblebee?"

His eyes twinkling, Jack agreed and the three began to set up the game console. Miko watched them with narrowed eyes and stormed off to get more cake, a slightly confused Bulkhead trailing her. Arcee and June were chatting about something, while Fowler hung around, hoping to get the attention of a certain nurse. Ratchet was shooting some none-too-subtle looks at the trio, apparently wanting to say something, but lacking the courage. And Optimus stood by the computers, his optics traveling over the interspecies mix he saw as family. As the faint sound of thunder rumbled through the silo, he couldn't help but think that this celebration was one of the tensest he'd ever seen.

* * *

**3:34 PM**

Eli slowly sipped the tea the giant had brought him. He felt surprisingly calm; he'd made peace with himself now. He wasn't going to leave this place alive.

"Hey," he croaked. Despite the sweet tea, his mouth felt quite dry. The giant turned and regarded him coolly, waiting for him to speak.

Taking a deep breath, Eli spoke. "I know I'm going to die. I just want to know…is there any chance you could…I mean…my folks…"

In a surprisingly gentle tone, the giant responded. "It's already been taken care of."

Eli leaned back, nodding. "Thank you," he said after a moment.

"It' not your fault." The man in the suit looked upon him in pity. "Wrong place, wrong time."

* * *

**3:39 PM**

Jack looked away from the game as thunder rolled through the silo, this time louder tha before. The storm was starting up again, he realized.

But which storm, he thought. The literal or the figurative one?

* * *

**3:40 PM**

As Kessler positioned himself in his chair, he felt his normally docile emotions begin to peak. The time wa almost here. The boy would soon be his once more.

Nearly trembling in anticipation, he sent forth the order.

* * *

**3:42 PM**

Harrison looked at the text he'd just received. Nodding to himself, he turned to his prisoner. For a moment he'd pitied the man. He was young, barely out of high school.

Mentally shaking his head, he sent out a few texts of his own. One to his master, and the other to the underlings. Once that was done, he reached down and picked up a black briefcase. He set it on the table and popped the clips, removing the shiny gun from within. He met the wide eyes of his hostage, and loaded the gun, slowly and deliberately. Then he began to wait.

* * *

**3:46 PM**

The silo's general silence was broken by the sound of a message coming though. Optimus turned to a screen and frowned slightly upon realizing it was an audio only connection. Clearing his throat, he spoke his greeting. "This is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. Please identify yourself."

A second passed, and then a warped voice responded. "I am Kessler. i have no business with you, Autobot. My business is with Mr. Darby."

Every turned to Jack in surprise. Jack looked just as surprised as they were. He spoke to the screen. "What do you want?"

"I want to test you, to see if you are worthy."

"Not interested," Jack responded flatly.

The sound of a gunshot made everyone jump. The voice on the line chuckled. "You hear that? That's the sound of a person dying. Now, what was that you said, Mr. Darby?"

After the shock passed, Jack glared at the screen, the cold look of a boy who'd endured torture returning to his eyes after three months. "I'm listening."

* * *

**Please review! **


	4. Chapter 4

"Glad to hear that, Mr. Darby. Your cooperation would be most appreciated here."

"Well, I'm glad to please," Jack responded coolly. Quietly, Ratchet fired up another computer, and began moving his servos rapidly across the keys, activating a tracking program.

Another chuckle. "I doubt that. You're not like most others, are you? There's something hidden in you, under the skin. You've always known this. I bet you just dying to find out."

"I'm fine thanks." Jack continued to stall for time, watching as Ratchet began to ground his dentas in frustration.

Kessler chuckled again, officially begin to grate Jack' nerves. "Enough pleasantries. We'll have plenty of time later as you're solving my puzzle.

I learned a lot about you from Mr. Silas. He seemed to have taken an interest in you. Since he is dead, I have taken it upon myself to adopt his interest and….expand a bit."

"How do you know Si's bit the dust?" interrupted Fowler. "His body's never been found."

"It hasn't?" Kessler said, sounding pleased. "I really must give my employee a raise. He did a superb job. I hadn't wanted my little surprise to be revealed until now and not by anyone else save Mr. Darby."

"Well, you got your wish, Mr. Kessler. Now, about this business of yours…" he trailed off. One may have thought he was reading a script or joking around. But those who knew Jack knew that he was far from a joking mood. His eyes told everything.

"It's as I told you, Mr. Darby. You've been chosen to play my game. Don't worry, it's simple. I give you a riddle. Once you get to each riddle location, you have exactly one hour to not only get to the next location, but evade my little roadblocks and defeat and outwit my traps, and rescue the person I have set up to die. What say you?"

"You're insane."

"You know what they say. There's a fine line between genius and insanity. What some people don't understand is that there is no line. The only distinction is one's level of ignorance. Well, since you've accepted, here's your first riddle: the victim's location should be easy to find. Its sign is the biggest supporter of the American way."

"That makes no sense," blurted Bulkhead.

"Seeing as your head is smaller than the rest of you, Wreaker, it's really no surprise. Oh, and as a last parting gift…"

The controls that Ratchet was working on suddenly began to spark and smoke. The medic leapt away cursing.

"I don't like people spying on me. It's rude."

With a click, the line went dead.

* * *

The Autobots and their allies stood in a stunned silence. Someone had not only hacked into their systems, but had taken an interest in their honorary Prime. Slowly, all eyes and optics went to Jack, who was pacing the length of the human's space with an intense expression on his face.

June broke the silence first. "Jackson Darby," she warned, "If you're even thinking of doing that that man says-"

"I'm not quite sure he has a choice," interrupted Ratchet. "Whoever this "Kessler" is, he's quite serious." He paused for a moment and then admitted somewhat reluctantly, "I couldn't even begin to trace him, not with this…tech. He's got an encryption so complicated, I have a feeling it would give even Soundwave a pause."

Fowler openly gaped. "The doc's admitting he can't do something. We_ are_ in trouble."

"It's the tech," Ratchet insisted. "And even more disturbingly, the minuscule amount I did begin to unravel was a strange mix of several different languages."

Raf frowned. "I thought you guys had international language decoders."

"We do!" said Ratchet, exasperated. "It wasn't just basically every code, language and script I've encountered upon this planet. There was Cybertronian code and language in there as well."

"Old friend." Optimus asked worriedly. "Do you mean to say….?"

"Yes. This Kessler person developed an encryption web of basically every code in the world, plus our own. He implanted earth code in Cybertronian and vice versa." He paused again, reevaluating the code, before gasping. "He used a _triple_ encryption!"

Raf dropped his glasses in shock. Everyone else just looked confused, save Jack whose face had not changed.

"In English, please?" Arcee said dryly.

"Cybertronian," Ratchet corrected.

"They speak English here."

"_You're_ not from here."

"We live here _now_."

"You've gone native."

"So?"

Ratchet stated to respond, but Optimus put a servo on his shoulder and gave him a warning look.

Raf decided to explain. "It's basically an already hard encryption twisted around."

Seeing blank looks, Raf tried again. "Think of it like a cocktail, or better yet, some high grade energon. Your minds the computer and the drink is the code. Imagine having to take one drink and then trying to figure out what's in it by taste alone. This is including all the chemicals from each of the ingredients. Now imagine mixing the drink with two other drinks that have a few similar, but a few different ingredients. Try imagining trying to figure out each chemical component _plus_ the amount of each chemical while intoxicated. _That's_ what we have here.

"Well, that's bleak," Arcee shook her head. "So how are we supposed to find this guy?"

"You heard the man," Miko looked at the blue Autobot scornfully. "We have to play his game."

"_Jack_ has to play his game," Arcee retorted. "And all he gave us as a clue was a stupid riddle."

"Well, somebody better figure it out fast!" Bulkhead looked at the group urgently. "We're at fifty-three minutes and counting!"

"The John Hancock Building." Jack's voice cut through the silo like a knife. All turned to him as he climbed down the stairs, his face expressionless.

"How do you know," asked Bulkhead, a little rudely.

"John Hancock's signature was the largest of the Declaration of Independence, the official document of our values and rights as American citizens." He turned to Ratchet. "The ground bridge still okay?"

When Ratchet nodded, Jack ordered, "Fire it up. Set the coordinates to a rural region of Chicago, Illinois. Try to find somewhere with cover. It's a big city."

"Jackson Darby! You are-"

"Going to try to fix this mess, mom. It's my fault, inadvertently. Those people are innocent. I need to fix this."

Before June could argue further, Jack turned away and began to patiently wait for the ground bridge to start. Conceding defeat, June fell silent.

Miko picked up the sniper rifle eagerly. "Let's rescue some hostages."

Arcee stepped forward. "Uh, I don't think so."

"But he can't go alone!" the girl protested.

Despite the circumstances, Arcee smiled cheekily. "Who said he's going alone?"

Miko scowled fiercely.

The bridge erupted to life, effectively ending the potential argument. Jack strode forward, and the bots parted for him, effectively awed by his cool. His aura shone with confidence and determination. Jack was just under six feet tall, but in that moment he seemed no less than sixty.

* * *

In the Windy City, a small alley way, a bright portal of color erupted from nothingness. A blue and pink motorcycle emerged from within, its rider's face hidden by a large gray helmet. The boy-no, man-seemingly guided his bike from the alleyway onto a small street, before merging with the traffic on a main street. Within moments he was engulfed by traffic, all heading the same way: Downtown Chicago

* * *

**Please Review! It help me write, and I can't wait to show more of my city.**


	5. Chapter 5

Arcee hated clogged cities. The last big city she'd been in had been Las Vegas, and it seemed to be nothing more than an enormous, obnoxious party town.

Chicago was a different ballpark.

One, it seemed to be mixture of shine and shabby. The neighborhoods simply melded into each other. On Cybertron, the caste system was obvious: the higher toward the sky you lived, the better you were, according to the High Council.

Here the shabbiest of houses could be found next to beautiful living areas that ranked just under a small palace. There was even ground, and the only buildings that reached upward were office buildings and apartments, where all sorts of people lived.

And the bikes!

There were all types of bikes. Peddle bikes. Mopeds. Harley bikes with their deep rumbling roars. And bikes that were similar, if not the same make as her own. She heard their accelerators reach their beautiful screech and she felt like smiling. That was, until she met traffic.

Chicago certainly did not endear itself to her in that regard. The traffic here was awful. And she thought Vegas was bad…

Still, at least the people here weren't as annoying as the ones in-

"Yo! Speed up, or pull out the lane, idiot!"

Never mind.

She angled her mirrors to see just which bozo she'd have to teach a lesson, but it was hard to tell. A lot of people were blowing a her from behind.

"What's wrong?" she asked her partner. "I'm going the speed limit."

Jack's impassive face briefly twitched with amusement. "Looks like they want to go over the limit."

"We are in a hurry," the scout said contemplatively. "Shall we oblige them?"

His serious face snapped back on. "No. We can't risk any chance of getting in any sort of legal trouble. It'll do nothing but slow us down."

Arcee hesitated. She knew the answer, but it had to be asked. It was the only way he'd ever let his emotions be known without him eventually blowing up. "Are you okay?"

"No," was the curt reply.

And people thought she was moody.

"Why not?"

He hesitated for a moment before he responded in a frustrated voice. "I'm so tired of these egotistical maniacs trying to manipulate us. Why can't they leave us alone? It's hard enough for you guys to fight the Cons on a near daily basis, but then you guys have to get caught up in human affairs too…"

If she could, Arcee would have started to cry. Jack was typical Jack: the kind kid who put far too much weight on his shoulders.

"Jack," she started firmly. "You are family now. Your problems are our problems. Anyone who messes around with you messes with us."

"You make us sound like a gang."

"We_ are_ Team Prime. We have guns and knives. We have a sign. All we need are tattoos."

Jack threw back his head and laughed. It was a clear peal, untouched by any pain, past, present, or future.

It sounded wonderful.

* * *

A man stood along the bank of the expressway. It was the Kennedy, according to the sign. But the man didn't care about that. He was waiting for his prey to arrive. He was the first of the roadblocks and he intended to do his job right. His master had chosen him especially for this mission. He would not fail the cause.

If the boy was as capable as his master said, then he knew he'd either be killed or maimed. In the latter case, he knew what was to be expected.

There! A blue motorcycle with pink highlights was roaring up the expressway towards him. He quickly said his prayers, almost overcome with euphoria. Soon, their people would rise from the ashes of humanity.

As the motorcycle and its rider came closer, the man straightened his sunglasses, smoothed down his suit, bent his legs, and jumped.

Fifty feet. Straight up.

* * *

The sound of cracking concrete was the only warning. Jack had only time to look up before an enormous penguin landed with a jarring crash on the seat behind and wrapped a large arm around his neck.

Arcee, off balance fell heavily on her side, metal screeching on concrete. Her momentum was still going however, propelling them forward. The suited man's sudden entrance had knocked them to the side a few feet and now they were in the oncoming lane.

If that wasn't bad enough, there was an enormous semi bearing down on them.

Jack could almost see Miko rolling her eyes at how cliché this entire scenario was.

Pulling himself close to Arcee's frame, he heaved her to a certain angle, hoping his depth perception was correct…

With a blaring horn, the semi saw them a little too late and tried to brake. The protesting gears felt like torture as Arcee and Jack went under, barely missing the wheels. The goon wasn't so lucky. He smashed his head on the grill and was dragged along behind it.

Now in the clear, Jack heaved his weight once more this time upwards. This gave poor Arcee enough grip to successfully right herself. The paint on her left side was nearly completely scraped off.

Despite the blaring horns and screeching going on behind them, the two were silent. Then: "What the Pit was that?"

Jack's impassive face was back in place. "One of Kessler's 'roadblocks'."

Arcee noticed something. "Jack! Your leg!"

Jack looked over at his left leg, which he now realized was stinging horribly. The lower part of his jeans had been ripped apart by the friction of the concrete, and blood stained the scraped and torn flesh.

"Mom's going to kill me," he groaned.

"She's going to kill us," Arcee corrected.

The sound of screaming metal and large shadow interrupted any other conversation.

* * *

The man could not believe it. He'd failed his duty. He hadn't even engaged the boy! Tears of anguish pricked the edge of his eyes.

No. No. He would not fail his duty. He'd become the roadblock…no matter the cost. He would the boy a bit of a challenge before it was too late.

The truck was slowing now. If he didn't act fast, he'd lose his chance.

Gritting his teeth, he slammed his feet down, breaking into the concrete. It did not hurt as his legs were dragged behind and then pushed as he pulled himself from beneath. With a powerful grunt, he locked his knees and lifted his back, separating cab and ground.

Placing a leg outside his self-made crater, the man began to swing the entire semi _and_ trailer around in a circle. The white-faced driver in the cab was screaming, and the trailer remained attached only by a few wires. Releasing a primal yell, he released the truck, and it sailed through the air, the trailer acting like a bulky arrow with the cab acting like a the worlds oddest tail.

The man sighed in content, watching as the impending disaster approached his target. He'd done his duty. It was time to die.

Taking a pill out of his pocket, he discarded the protective covering, and popped it in his mouth. At first, there was nothing. And then there was bone-burning, cell-popping, agonizing pain. With a scream, the man disappeared in a flash of flame.

* * *

The semi smashed the cars in front of the partners to scrap metal. A second later, the entire semi and trailer erupted in flames, sending cars around it flying.

Arcee knew that she was going too fast to stop now. Inwardly gritting her dentas, she shot into maximum overdrive. She raised her front end, and hit an overturned car at deadly speeds.

"Jack! Jump!"

He responded without question, using her seat as a springboard and launching himself in the air.

Arcee hit the ground hard. She ignored the pain and wheeled around racing towards the wreckage. With another turn, she pointed herself towards their destination just as her rider landed hard on her seat. With a squeal of tires, they set off once more, short on time and hoping to leave the death and destruction behind.

* * *

**I'm setting the city aflame...that's probably illegal.**

**Don't forget to review!**


	6. Chapter 6

Jack hissed as the stinging air attacked his torn leg. Arcee kept tilting her mirror downwards to look at the wound, but she wisely kept silent. Months of partnership had instilled a sense of how Jack acted. One had to develop such a sense, because Jack simply didn't fit in with the standard idea of how a teenager was supposed to act. Of course, he occasionally had a hormone-fueled temper tantrum, but Arcee could count the number of times that had happened on on servo.

She always got stuck with the stubborn ones.

They pulled off the expressway and wheeled on to a main street. Ohio, the street sign declared. Several miles were cleared in silence, before they turned on yet another street-that was full of traffic.

Jack swore. Several people looked over at him, bemused. No doubt because they'd already finished their own rounds of swearing.

"What's going on?" Arcee asked, craning her mirrors at the mob of people filling the sidewalk.

Someone must of heard her, because someone in an SUV next to them said, "They're redirecting traffic up by the Hancock. I heard something about a hostage situation on the radio.

Jack cursed again. "We don't have time for this." He looked up at the building that loomed in the distance mockingly. He thought for a moment then made a decision. "Arcee, do you trust me?"

Arcee became immediately suspicious. "Why?"

"Do you trust me?" Jack asked, blue eyes boring into her dash.

"Yeah, of course," she answered after a moment.

"Then I need you to do what I say. I have a plan."

"Am I going to like this plan?"

"Probably not."

Jack told her the plan. Arcee didn't like it.

* * *

Officer Harold Perez wiped sweat from his brow. It wasn't very hot out, but his sweat had nothing to do with heat. It something to do with the hostage situation unfolding that he and his comrades could do nothing about.

The men that had raided the ground floor had made no demands, no ransom fee. They just took control of the ground floor, captured the people on it, reinforced the doors and windows with tables and other furniture, and kept the people from the floors above from coming down. It was a slick operation, and had been carried out with alarming speed and accuracy.

No one knew who they were. They didn't look like terrorists or regular robbers. They were all dressed in suits. It was like the days of Al Capone had returned.

Perhaps they were Mafia, mused Officer Perez as he watched a hostage negotiator try to get someone inside to answer the phone.

* * *

Jack ran as fast as his wounded leg, aching ribs, and tender chest would allow. He wormed his way through the crowd of people clustered behind barricades. From his viewpoint, it appeared that the hostiles had simply overturned tables in front of the doors and plied some stuff on top of that. It appeared to be a poor defense, and if the SWAT team prepping themselves were any indication, it appeared the officers thought it to be poor as well.

The wave of black clad men started to fan out and then stopped. One guy had collapsed and as a comrade went down on one knee to examine him, a round, neat hole appeared in the back of his head. He collapsed on top of his buddy.

The SWAT team started to back away, but the captors were not done. A window opened on the forth floor, and a man in a dark suit leaned out with a rocket launcher.

Before the team could do anything, the suit fired, sending the missile straight into the window of a police car.

As the crowd screamed, pushed, and ran away from the deafening explosion, and flying, flaming debris, Jack realized getting inside was going to be harder than he thought.

* * *

Arcee cursed yet again as horn blared behind her. Not only was her charge gone traversing off to who knows where to do who knows what, she had to deal with dozens of obnoxious people who could not seem to understand the glowing "Delayed" sign dotted all around the street.

An explosion was heard about two block in front. Arcee wished not for the first time that they weren't in disguise; for all she knew, Jack was up there bleeding to death.

Such thoughts made her even more intolerant to the idiot behind her. His music was pounding at such a volume, Arcee wondered if he'd even heard the explosion.

Still, she would not let people like him nettle her. She was a warrior, a soldier that had endured thousands of years in the front lines of battle. Her occupation as a scout was one of the most dangerous there was. She-

"Move it, b****!"

Screw diplomacy. Screw secrecy. She was about to show this guy what slightly solidified nanobots could so to reproductive organs.

* * *

Jack shivered as the whipping wind on top of the Water Tower building tore at his clothing designed for hot desert days. It was amazing that he'd managed to get up here; still with everyone watching the drama unfolding a block away, who was paying attention to him.

A pounding sound came from the hatch to the roof. Jack checked the bar he'd used to lock the door; it was starting to bend.

It was now or never.

Jack Darby rechecked his target location, took a deep breath, and ignoring the voice that told him to get the heck out of there, jumped.


	7. Chapter 7

Sarah Court held on to her cameraman as the helicopter made another sharp turn. She really hated these things. But this Hancock Hostage situation was the biggest story there was right now, and the best coverage, her boss assured her, was in the air.

The copter wheeled around the Water Tower in order to get a look without getting shot down. It had been strict police orders. But Sarah wasn't going to let a bunch of blue-collars ruin her chance at the news desk. Determined, she ordered the driver to double back by the Tower to get closer to the action.

And then something hit them.

* * *

Jack struggled to keep his grip on the helicopter landing gear. His shoulder had nearly popped out upon grabbing it, and the blades chopping the air above was deafening. If only his mother could see him now...

His sudden weight caused the chopper to tilt alarmingly. It wasn't a sturdy military grade. It was a simple, almost flimsy news copter, built primarily for speed rather than protection and stability. He spotted a terrified woman's face in the window above him. She turned and yelled something at the pilot, who veered sharply away from the tower, towards the Hancock.

Perfect.

* * *

Sarah could not beilive it. They hadn't been hit by loose siding or some manic's missile. They'd been attacked by a _person_. In midair.

If you could call him that. From the looks of it, the attacker didn't look a day over seventeen. Crazy teens. At least in her day, they most they'd done was raid liquor cabinets and smoke pot. Nowadays, crazy kids tried to do what the special effects did.

She yelled at the pilot to find a place to land, but he misheard her, deafened as he was by the blades and panic. He wasn't trained to try to find a landing spot while there was someone hanging where the landing gear was supposed to be. And the sudden weight had caused the helicopter to shift perilously close to the Water Tower. Instinctively, he veered left, bringing the the helicopter higher as he did so.

* * *

Jack groaned as his stomach lurched violently. The shifting and turning was making him sick. He arms were starting to ache. _Just a bit longer._

The helicopter veered alarmingly again. The pilot, now safely away from the Water Tower, was starting to turn the craft in sudden sharp turns and twists. He wasn't really going anywhere, so what was he trying to-

Jack's overly paranoid automaticlly provided him with an answer which seemed terribly and sickingly plausible. The pilot wanted him off. Now.

* * *

It wasn't that the pilot was really trying to kill the boy. Much. But he was only human. And the sad truth was when humans began to panic, they try to block out anything that stresses them out. And in this case, the kid hanging from his copter was severely stressing him out. And since he was still there, a very dark part of his mind was trying to get rid of him.

Sarah gripped his arm. "You'll kill him!"

The pilot took a deep breath, banished his fears, shook himself out of his shadowy funk, and responded, "I'll try to find a place to land."

* * *

Jack's arm's were screaming bloody murder. _Just...a bit...longer._

There!

The Hancock loomed up ahead, windows shining brightly. The helicopter came up near the building and started to ascend. Obviously, it wanted to land on the roof and probably kick him of. But that was okay. The taxi ride was over.

With a heave, Jack swung forward and tucked himself into a ball, awaiting impact.

CRASH!

Jack smashed into a window on the forth floor, sending glass shards shooting forward into the inside.

* * *

Sarah couldn't believe what she'd just seen and went through. She sat in silence for a moment, staring at the hole the strange teen had gone through. Was he just a crazy? Or was he a boy on a mission?

"Harold? Fire up your camara."

* * *

Jack groaned slightly, and picked himself up from the wall he fallen into. He froze suddenly, remembering where he was. He listened with strained ears for any approaching movement. He heard nothing.

As he picked himself up, he realized the wall was actually a man. Next to him lay a rocket launcher. It seems the car blaster from before had moved from his former position. And he'd unwittingly provided an excellent pillow for Jack's impact.

Jack streched, wincing as he shifted his aching muscles and stinging leg. There was little time to lick his wounds. There were lives at stake.


	8. Chapter 8

The henchman never knew what hit him, literally. The side of the rocket launcher slammed into the side of his head, and he dropped like a stone.

Jack panted as he dropped the launcher and rubbed his aching arms. This was the fifth time he'd come across a grunt, and the fifth time this tactic had worked. Each one had worn ski masks over their faces and hadn't heard him coming. They were probably hired hand, not like the burly, suited men on the tower floor that kept their faces open to identification. The burly men who could hurl semis with little effort.

The sound of footsteps suddenly felt like thunder in his ears. The world around him went a little blurry, then sharpened drastically. Scents suddenly flooded through his nostrils-paint, dust, blood..._there_. A well-pressed suit, warm and loose from body heat. The scent of gunpowder. Caution radiating from every pore. The quiet, careful steps, so light a deer would have been hard-pressed to hear them.

And then it was over.

Jack gasped slightly, and as quietly as he could, hurried over to the opposite staircase from him. What in the All-Spark had that been?

It didn't matter now. All that mattered was what was going to happen to him if the suit caught him.

Ribs aching, he reached the staircase and opened the door, just as the sound of running came from behind.

Just wonderful. Jack scrambled into the stairwell, and closed the door until there was only a crack left ajar.

The guard came running around the corner towards the stairwell where the teen was hidden. His eye's were closed, and Jack had no doubt he was focusing on his other senses, which were doubtless enhanced.

Who were these people?

Jack held his breath as the suit came closer...closer...closer...NOW!

Jack hurled himself back and opened the door at the same time, allowing the suit's momentum to carry his bulk into the stairwell and down the stairs. Jack didn't wait to see what would happen to him. He was already slamming the door and running towards the other stairs. If the man on the expressway could survive being hit by a truck, Jack had no doubt this one could survive a little fall.

* * *

Jack examined the bank floor from behind the stairwell door. They hadn't seen him, having assumed that all people in the building were either hostages or dead. For some reason, the Hancock had been closed today, so only a few officials and some workers had been in when the attack initiated. There was blood on the floor, and a shiny shoe poking out from behind a counter. The bile rose in his throat.

How was he going to get to the bank floor and figure out the next clue without getting anyone shot? Scratch that, how was_ he_ going to avoid getting shot at, or worse, ripped apart?

He took a deep breath and began to slowly turn the handle...

Warning bells flashed in his mind, and he whipped around just in time to hit by a suited rhino and catapulted through the door.

The door burst open and Jack sent flying. For a moment, there was a peculiar sense of weightlessness as he glided through the air.

Then he hit a table and and the daydream was over.

He rolled off the cracked table just as a fist pounded the glass into pieces. The suit grunted as jagged pieces ripped into his flesh.

Jack took the moment to look around. He only had a few seconds, but Arcee's lessons had taught him that that was more than enough.

The lobby was wide and spacious, though the decor was ruined by fifteen or so people crouching with their hands over their heads. There were three other equally muscled suits by the hostages, and another four lounging around. Jack's heart sank. He'd never be able to take them.

And there was only ten minutes left.

His opponent managed to free him hand, and swung it like a club, catching Jack in the chest. As Jack slid over the floor, he thought it a miracle something hadn't broken.

The henchman seized his neck in a crushing grip and hurled him across the lobby. Jack grunted as he landed on his shoulder, rolling his body so he landed on his feet in a crouch. He stumbled slightly as he got to his feet, and his back hit the pillar behind him.

The suit rushed him again, sunglasses slightly askew, froth gathering at the corners of his lips.

Jack rolled out of the way, and the suit's head smashed into the pillar like a bull. His skull went right into the stone, and stayed lodged there as it's owner grunted and bellowed in rage and pain.

Jack stared as he caught his breath at the comical sight, an idea forming in his head.

As the grunt pulled his head free, Jack turned and sprinted towards another pillar. The thundering footsteps of the suit behind him made the floor shake. He was almost there...

Less than three feet from the pillar, Jack hurled himself to the side and rolled, once again landing in a crouch. The suit wasn't so lucky, and his momentum sent him smashing his head through the stone.

Jack was already up and moving as he heard the crumbling stone hit the floor behind him. He risked a glance over his shoulder and shuddered at the ghastly, snarling figure that raged after him, arms outstretched, head covered in blood, sunglasses gone and blood-shot eyes wide and rolling.

Jack repeated his rolling crouch move and winced at the sound of shattering stone. The suit didn't appear to be too smart, and the continual knocks in the head weren't helping.

Another hit later and and the footsteps began to slow, the breathing became labored.

Five minutes.

Another smash. Slower and slower.

Another smash. Groans of pain. One more...

CRUNCH.

Jack slowed, stopped and turned.

The suit's face was pressed into the stone-and he wasn't moving.

It was over.

Jack turned back towards the hostages, only to hit the broad chest of another suit.

The man stared down at him behind his dark sunglasses.

Jack scrambled away, readying his weary body for another fight.

"Don't be tired." The suit's voice was soft. "You're only just starting, Mr. Darby."

He handed the teen a sheet of paper. "You've proven yourself worthy for the next level. Here's your next clue. Don't worry about the hostages; they were just to get your attention. They will be freed." Indeed the other men were calmly packing up their weapons.

The suit turned away. "I'd go out the back-way if I were you. And do hurry. You have an hour and two minutes. So says Kessler."

* * *

**Hey, look! This story isn't dead!**

**Review Please!**


	9. Chapter 9

Kessler smiled as the report came through. Jackson was turning out to be a success; his hunch had not gone unfounded. Sure, he'd only undergone a single task, but he'd executed it wonderfully, but because he'd freed hostages, but because he'd reacted to his attacker.

He was learning. And oh, did Kessler have a lot to teach.

Dialing his faithful bodyguard, he sent forth his new orders. "Skip task two and three. Go directly to task four and the final task."

"Yes sir." Harrison would never question an order that fell from Kessler's lips. And in return, Kessler vowed to never let such faith go unrewarded.

* * *

Jack wasn't exactly sure how he'd gotten out of the Hancock unnoticed, but considering the aggressors had just left the hostages without harming them had most of the force searching the building and reporters commenting about the search. No one was on the lookout for a scruffy-looking teenager.

He'd barely gotten a block away when Arcee showed up, Sadie hologram active. She knew better than to comment on his appearance and instead said, "We should go."

Jack swung on behind Sadie. "We got another message?"

"Uh…no…"

"Then why-"

"Hey!" a heavyset man limped rapidly up the street. Sweat dripped down his face and he was obviously in pain. His problem became clear immediately. "Yo! Your bitch stuck her fucking heel in my balls!"

"…._Arcee_…"

"Do you hear that? I think its Optimus. We should go."

"I don't-whoa!"

* * *

June Darby often wished her son had never met the beings he called friends. Ever since he had, he'd begun to change. The sloping shoulders went back, shocking her by revealing their owner was at least three inches taller than previously thought. Teachers sung praises about the intelligent boy witht the dark hair that used to sit in the back of the classroom. The K.O. manager had promoted him twice-then again as an apology for firing him. He was the poster boy for optimal life in Jasper's middle-class.

Or the picture of a growing general. But he was just a little boy. Her little boy…

Ratchet observed the nurse's worried confliction in the reflection of his screens. A part of him, a large part of him, wished to tell her not to fear for her son, because he held the spirit of a Prime. She wished to boast that his superior knowledge would find the location of this Kessler and bring the man to justice. He wished to hold her, much like Bumblebee held the boy who'd become his brother, and lull her with the sound of his spark, like Arcee claimed Jack's did.

But his pride would not allow him to. And as he searched for leads to apprehend Kessler, he deliberately squashed the voice that told him he'd regret not shirking the persona of a millennia for a single moment.

* * *

Miko fumed on the couch. Jack this. Jack that. Why did everyone think he was so great? The kid was as skinny as beanpole and had the world experience of a snail.

_Maybe_, a small voice whispered, _you're jealous_.

Miko nearly snorted. Jealous of what? She had two sets of loving parents, her dogs…and…

_You don't have him._

Why would she want him? He was bossy, _handsome_ (aargh!), condescending, _caring_ (…really?), and annoyingly sarcastic.

_Did I mention handsome?_ (…Shut up).

The inner voice ignored the voice of practicality. _Are you really jealous of him? Or her?_

Miko had no illusion as to who her was. She really didn't see the appeal; she was a motorcycle. Weren't American guys supposed to like big trucks and fast sports cars and loud Harleys?

But all he talked about was her.

Miko hated that motorcycle!

A part of her felt guilty for that. Sure, Arcee wasn't buddy-buddy with her, but she knew that if she was ever in danger, the two-wheeler would spring to her aid.

But hormones coursed through her veins and her attachment to one of the only two male friends she had prevented the voice of reason from speaking and allowed the whisper of jealousy to fill her mind with poison.

* * *

The hunter's glossa slid slowly over her lips, savoring the echoes of the tangy and unique taste of raw human flesh. She smirked as she recalled the effort-or lack of-needed to gain her meal. For a race seemingly hellbent on destroying their world, you could always count on a few humans walking through the woods.

The picture perfect family they were basking in the glow of being the dominant species of the area. But heir power twas a lie, they'd discovered. As the hunter had swooped down upon them, they'd finally seen the truth.

Their power was not inherited. It had to be earned.

And it was clear where the Sire's power trully lay as he shoved his wife into the hunter's path, as he ignored the heart-wrenching screams of his chidren as he bolted to his fancy car, the connection to his strength.

He belonged in the monotone world of suits, poluution, and artificiallity. He did not belong in the nature. He did not belong in he real world.

In a way, Airachnid mused, she had done the man a favor. He wouldn't have to live to make the same mistake twice.

"Miss Airachnid?"

The spider-bot was so statled she nearly toppled from the tree where she rested. Her optics zeroed in on the large frames of three organics, each wearing dark suits and tinted, squared pieces of glass connected by sturdy wire. Sunglasses, the Decepticon recalled, bemused.

Having gained her attention, the organic that had spoken first now bowed respectivelly. The other two followed suit. "Mistress of Hunters, Queen of Seduction, Ruler of the Insecticons! Our Lord,Savior, and Master Kessler humbly requests your presence!"

Airachnid didn't know whether to be flattered by the compliments or shocked by the knowledge of Cybertronians these humans possesed. However, centuries of suspicion ruled above all, and quickly on it's heels came the reminder of the last time she'd joined with humans. She hissed, rising up and raising several appendages in preperation of a strike. "Who are you? Speak!"

The organics didn't appear alarmed; in fact, judging by the upraised hands of peace they were displaying, they'd expected her reaction.

"My lady, " the first one spoke again. "We think you might be interested in meeting with our master, especially since this boy is his target." The man showed her a pictue, and Airachnid felt her spark skip a beat. It was _him_.

The organic sensed her resolve crumble and smiled. With a wave of his hand a groundbridge appeared behind him. "Shall we, my Lady?"

* * *

**Spur of the moment chapter. I'm working off turkey, stuffing, and pie…with my fingers.**

**Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and please review!**


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